Exactly a Month.

Well, a day over.
But I haven't blogged since September 11.
I have felt strong emotions since that day, but I've been using other outlets for them. Outlets that include people, instead of a faceless internet.
These emotions, however, warrant a blog post.

I'm having a rather... Interesting patch in my life right now. I'm paying my way through school, working, and sometimes struggling to find God in my every day. I don't feel like I'm supposed to be in a corporate church, and yet all of the teaching that I've ever had and a lot of the advice I'm receiving includes going to church. Half the time I want to cry... And half the time I want to shove it in the face of everyone who has ever doubted me and say, "LOOK! I said I could do this, and I am. So there."

I told Kanz the other night that I just want to be out of this phase of my life. I accept the necessity for it, and I know I will eventually be grateful for the lessons it brings about... But I'm tired of being a single student, in a house full of roommates. I want to be married, with a house of my own, and graduated, with a career. Not like, tomorrow... I just want to fast forward these next several years.

The day after I had that conversation with Kanz... One of my regular customers died. James was a man who had come into the well house at least once a week for the entire year that I've worked there. He always ordered a chicken salad pita and a sweet tea. He always had a movie review, a joke, and a question- about my life, about how classes were, about what music I was listening to. James' visit to the Well House was a highlight of my week.

I met James soon after he stopped having chemo for his cancer. His doctors told him he had 6 months to live if he continued with the chemo... And he chose to die sooner, but feeling well, than later, nauseous and miserable. And yet he surpassed the odds. His "prescribed death day", as he called it, came and went- and he ate a chicken salad pita to celebrate. But we watched as he slowly deteriorated- his demeanor changed from cheery and bright to a little miserable and often, downright cranky. His stomach become unable to handle the potato chips that come with our sandwiches, and eventually even the carrot chips we offer as a substitute- and so we started making him "cuke bites", special. Slowly, just as his hair and eyelashes grew back after the chemo, he began to wither before our eyes. And as his visits became less and less frequent, we knew the time was coming.

But when I got the message yesterday morning that he was dead, it hit me like a ton of bricks. He was never going to come through the front door and insist that I see the Help again (he did that 3 times). He was never going to begrudgingly pay for his son-in-law's lunch. He was never going to tease me about forgetting his side of ranch.

And I was miserable about wanting to rush through a few years of living.

I've been beating myself up and was explaining to Kanz why as we pulled up in the drive after Bible study this evening.

Feeling unimportant, basically.

And then I saw the porch.

Our porch is nothing spectacular. There's some wood sloppily stacked on one end, a few benches, and hannaHRose was sitting there talking on the phone.

But there was also a foreign object.

A heater. A brand new one. A very nice one, with a remote and everything. With a card on it. That had my name.

And the card basically said, "You've blessed me, and I wanted to bless you back. So here's a heater, because I heard you need one."

And I have no idea who did it.

Supposedly, none of the roommates do, either.

I'm dying to know who did it.

But also, I know that if I knew who had done it, I would have a much harder time accepting it.

So, to my "friend" (that's how the card was signed), whoever you are... Thank you. I will pay it forward someday.

For now... I will be warm this winter. And every time I turn it on, I will remember "if you're loved by someone, you're never rejected" (thanks, Avett Bros).

The Ballad of Love and Hate

Love writes a letter and sends it to hate.
My vacation's ending. I'm coming home late.
The weather was fine and the ocean was great
And I can't wait to see you again.

Hate reads the letter and throws it away.
No one here cares if you go or you stay.
I barely even noticed that you were away.
I'll see you or I won't, whatever.

Love sings a song as she sails through the sky.
The water looks bluer through her pretty eyes.
And everyone knows it whenever she flies,
And also when she comes down.

Hate keeps his head up and walks through the street.
Every stranger and drifter he greets.
And shakes hands with every loner he meets
With a serious look on his face.

Love arrives safely with suitcase in tow.
Carrying with her the good things we know.
A reason to live and a reason to grow.
To trust. To hope. To care.

Hate sits alone on the hood of his car.
Without much regard to the moon or the stars.
Lazily killing the last of a jar
Of the strongest stuff you can drink.

Love takes a taxi, a young man drives.
As soon as he sees her, hope fills his eyes.
But tears follow after, at the end of the ride,
Cause he might never see her again.

Hate gets home lucky to still be alive.
He screams o'er the sidewalk and into the drive.
The clock in the kitchen says 2:55,
And the clock in the kitchen is slow.

Love has been waiting, patient and kind.
Just wanting a phone call or some kind of sign,
That the one that she cares for, who's out of his mind,
Will make it back safe to her arms.

Hate stumbles forward and leans in the door.
Weary head hung, eyes to the floor.
He says Love, I'm sorry, and she says, What for?
I'm yours and that's it, Whatever.
I should not have been gone for so long.
I'm your's and that's it, forever.
You're mine and that's it, forever.
 (The Ballad of Love and Hate- The Avett Brothers)

I have spent a great deal of my life being Hate. Being the one who rejected Love, no matter what form it came in or how relentlessly it came.

I spent many, many, many years thinking that the people around me loved me- just not as much as they loved this person or that one. That I was in constant competition with those around me to achieve affection.

I think I eventually forgot what Love felt like. Every time Love appeared, I pulled back, pushed it away, didn't know how to deal with it.

I mistook the similarities I felt with those around me who were also lonely and Hateful as Love.

I have recently realized that this is not Love, this is just another version of Hate. It allows for rejection from those people, and if the expectation comes to pass, then it creates another cycle of Hate.

Love and compassion are two new experiences for me, ones that have become real over the last year, especially. Like I said before, these are not emotions that people had been withholding from me... They were emotions that I was refusing to accept.

hannaHRose told me that when she listened to this song, she thought "Man, Hate is really a jerk to Love!" At that point, I hadn't listened to it yet.

I listened to it in my car on the way to work this morning. I wasn't expecting the reaction I had.

I had to sit in the parking lot at work for 10 minutes and compose myself because I was weeping.

Because I have been to the point where I had to be "plastered", my emotions and ques and normal responses shut down, before I could give in to Love. Before I could face Love, apologize, and accept what had been there all along.

I'm trying to transition from Hate to Love. To responding out of joy instead of pain, pleasure instead of anger.

To forget and move on, instead of clinging to the wrongs that have been done to me.


"Love, I'm sorry." "What for? I'm yours, and that's it, whatever."